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“Are you certain it was Lady Rosamund?” Peregrine asked, wondering why he was even bothering. Of course, it was her. Who else could it be?

“Yes, Your Grace. Most of us know her well,” Hayes replied. Of course, they knew her. He retained most of the Ashbourne staff. “She is on Ashbourne land again.”

Peregrine closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and counted from one to ten in his head. In French. Next time, he might need another language to slow himself down a little more.

Lady Rosamund had been back in the parish for only three days. The woman had been gone for a while, and he thought that he did not have to deal with the ghosts of Harcourt past. Now, it seemed that his life would no longer find any peace. She would not stop until she had gotten her way, and he would not budge. No, he would not.

And yet, what was that woman doing walking around alone after dusk? He had already warned her of some of the dangers of walking alone, but, of course, she would not listen. Not to him, anyway.

“Thank you, Hayes. That is truly vital information,” he said, sounding far calmer than he felt. “You must get some rest now. I will also retreat to the bedchamber soon.”

The bedchamber.

Peregrine still could not call it his, no matter how hard he wanted his tongue to do so. The butler bowed after thanking him, and stepped back into the corridor. The elderly servant closed the door behind him, and Peregrine was alone once more. He turned to the window, his eyes scanning for the Rosewood Cottage. It was late, but it looked like there was a light flickering from one of the upstairs rooms.

Was it her?

Peace was over. Lady Rosamund seemed prepared to declare war. Yet was there ever a time he was truly at peace?

Four

“If you lean any further out that window, Rosamund, I believe that you will fall into Mrs. Hill’s bushes,” Alice warned, “headfirst.”

“You exaggerate!” Rosamund laughed. “Ashbourne Hall is too far for me to -”

She stopped. She knew that her friend was exaggerating for a reason. Her behavior might have been a little more frenzied than usual.

“Alice, I am merely observing what could be happening over there,” she said.

“You have been watching the boundary since breakfast. That is not healthy at all,” Alice observed.

“It is an investigation,” Rosamund declared, straightening herself. She knew what she was doing was impossible. Then again, she could not always be standing right within the Ashbourne territory. She still believed in her heart that the house was still her family’s own by right, but the law would favor the Duke in such matters. “I believe Peregrine Blackwood is hiding something nefarious. Who, aside from me, would ever try to discover what it is? A man who refuses one hundred thousand pounds for Ashbourne Hall is hiding something. A motive! What could he want from the house? I am certain he paid less for it because the auction did not attract that many other buyers. People thought that a house lost due to misdeeds would bring bad fortune!”

“Not to mention they only wanted your furniture for free,” Alice reminded her friend.

“That, too.”

“By the way, does your investigation involve you walking around the eastern timberline at dusk?” Alice asked.

“I was merely taking the scenic route,” Rosamund lied, her cheeks burning. “The sunset was beautiful from that side.”

“You told me about the lemon cakes he promised you if you schedule your appointment with him. I imagine you have never been invited.”

“No.”

“There is no need to invite someone who is compelled to always wander onto the property,” Alice said.

“If you were me, would you truly be able to keep away, Alice?” she asked earnestly.

I am not certain, Rosamund. I suppose not.”

By nearly noon, Rosamund had become incredibly restless once more. She wanted to put a plan into action. These days, there were always plans in her head. It was the execution that needed a little help.

Ashbourne Hall itself was barred to her. She could not legally enter unless she had the Duke's express permission. However, the estate also included a network of small cottages, tenant farms, shops, and pastures. The Harcourts had managed these lands for three generations, with her father being the third, and it was going smoothly then. Rosamund did not anticipate the ruin that waited for them at the end.

This morning’s first stop was Mrs. Clara Higgins’ cottage, which was close to the parish mill.

“I am glad to see you once again, Lady Rosamund!” the woman cried. “You must miss us! Come in and have some tea with us. I was just putting the kettle to the hearth.”